for some imperceptible, elusive, unisolated atom of radioactive matter?
"I suppose that you did not care to tell me of it at the time," I remarked; and upon my word I did not feel that I could justly imply a reproach.
"Yes, I did mention it," replied Bobbie, "but I don't think that you were interested."
He had! I remembered then that a few days before he had spoken diffidently of "something" which he believed he had found in the water. I was preoccupied at the moment, and if I gave the matter a thought it was only to associate the "something" with a lead soldier or an old shilling. I imagine that I told him not to bother me but to run out and play.
Another train of possibilities flashed through my mind. If only I had even then turned a sympathetic ear—an ear at all, in fact—the sequel might have been very different. The investigation would have been transferred to my laboratory; Blithers would have been gradually dispensed with; I could, if necessary, have become Bobbie's assistant; inevitably, after the little joke had been kept up long enough, Bobbie would have seen the propriety, in view of our ages, positions, and my unstinted generosity, of . . . Again the long vistas of platforms, the crowds, the articles. . . .
"How much water did you evaporate?" I asked, coming back to things as they were.
"A thousand gallons, uncle," replied Bobbie. Again history was repeating itself. A thousand gallons! And all with my best Silkstone, I suppose. Evidently another detail of Bobbie's thoughtful self-effacement!
"Mostly in tin kettles," added Bobbie.
Yes! If this new element is to be paraded before the scientific world, let it be known how it was obtained. Evaporated in tin kettles, precipitated in the very crudest
